


I'm Not Crazy...I'm Just A Little Unwell

by EveryDay_ALittleMore



Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Aftermath of a sickfic, Angst, Discussion of ageplay as coping mechanism, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fatherly Peter, Fluff, Gen, Infantilism, Maybe - Freeform, Motherly El, No Sex, No Smut, Non-Sexual Age Play, OOC, SO MUCH FLUFF, nsap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-26 10:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30104565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryDay_ALittleMore/pseuds/EveryDay_ALittleMore
Summary: Having suffered from a rather bad cold that resulted in staying with the Burkes for a prolonged amount of time, Neal starts to act strangely and Peter and El figure out what he needs.
Relationships: Elizabeth Burke & Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke & Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey, Neal Caffrey & Mozzie, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Comments: 26
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Matchbox Twenty's 'Unwell'.  
> More NSAP.  
> Read, enjoy. Or don't enjoy.  
> Comment--or don't comment.  
> :)

After Neal’s cold finally was over, the conman found himself spending more and more time at the Burke house, the ‘spare room’ his by an unspoken agreement between Peter and El.  


It was one of those times that found Peter watching the game on TV while Neal had fallen asleep next to him, his head on the older man’s shoulder.  


Peter was starting to find himself starting to doze in the relaxed atmosphere when he heard Neal suddenly gasp followed by a pained whimper.  


Frowning, rubbing sleep from his eyes, Peter looked down at Neal who was covered in a cold sweat, eyes moving furiously behind his closed eyelids.  


“Neal? Neal, wake up, buddy.” Peter tried gently shaking the younger man’s shoulder.  


Neal shuddered, but the sound of Peter’s voice seemed to pull him out of whatever nightmare he was having because the younger man’s eyes snapped open, wide and fearful.  


“It’s all right, Neal, it was just a dream.” Peter told him gently as he rubbed soothing circles on the younger man’s back. To Peter’s surprise and Neal’s, by the split second of shock on his face, the younger man’s eyes filled with tears.  


“Neal—“ Before he knew it, he had his arms full with a sobbing Neal who buried his head into Peter’s neck, his hands fisting in the older man’s shirt with a viselike grip.  


Sensing the boy’s need for physical comfort, Peter wrapped his arms tighter around him and started rocking back and forth as he murmured soothing words that he wouldn’t remember.  


After a while, Neal’s cries finally subsided into sniffles and Peter thought this was probably the best time to get Neal up to bed before he fell asleep—there was no way he could carry the man up those stairs.  


“Neal, time for bed.” Peter told his still sniffling C.I.  


Trying to hide the effort it took to release Peter, Neal nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course.” He hastily wiped at his eyes, careful to avoid Peter’s concerned gaze.  


“Neal—“  


“I’m fine, Peter, just overtired.” Neal assured him as he backed off to the stairs.  


Peter frowned. Neal was hiding something, but before he could question him further, Neal was up the stairs, a door closing above.  


Sighing, Peter turned off the lights and headed up to bed, El had already gone to bed around an hour ago, and Peter wished she had stayed up, he really wasn’t any good at all that emotional stuff. Knowing his wife, she probably would have been able to cut right to the root of whatever Neal’s problem was.  


Shaking his head, he entered their room and quietly slipped into bed next to his wife, slipping an arm around her as he closed his eyes, intent on sleeping through the night and figuring out the deal with Neal tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got inspired from another fanfic I read, but the name escapes me--once I find it again, I'll post the name and author in case anyone wants to check it out.
> 
> Update: here it is A Febrile Drowning by Stamper Comma Leland on fanfiction.net  
> https://m.fanfiction.net/s/8945649/1/A-Febrile-Drowning


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might get some second-hand embarrassment from this chapter--I sure did :)

Peter blinked away sleep as he suddenly became aware that there was someone else in the room with them. Keeping his breathing eve, Peter’s arm suddenly shot out, grabbing his gun from drawer in the end table and turning it onto the intruder—  


He blinked, his gun lowering.  


“Neal?”  


The con in question was standing in the doorway awkwardly, his arms folded tightly over his chest, head tilted down away from Peter.  


“Peter, what is it?” El mumbled as she shifted in bed and rubbed her eyes. “Neal? What’s wrong?” She asked in concern as Peter put his gun away and yawned.  


“I—I just—“ Neal mumbled, face burning as his head lowered even more.  


“What was that?” Peter asked frowning. He’d never seen Neal act like this before—except for when he had been down with one hell of a fever. “Come here, Neal.” He commanded swinging his legs out of bed as he stood up.  


Neal instantly responded to Peter’s tone of voice, quickly shuffling over to Peter.  


The FBI agent put a hand on the con’s head, feeling Neal lean into the touch.  


“Not sick, P’ter.” Neal mumbled.  


Peter frowned, he didn’t feel warm—but he noticed that the younger man was shaking slightly. The con’s eyes were slightly red, too. Abruptly he got it. “Another nightmare?” He asked gently.  


“Oh, Neal.” El looked even more concerned than before. “That’s it, get over here.”  


Both Peter and Neal looked at her startled.  


“El—“  


“Hon, he’s staying. Come here, sweetheart.” She beckoned to Neal with a maternal look about her; he looked longingly at the bed before glancing over at Peter and starting to back away. “No, no really, I’m fine—sorry for waking you—“  


“Neal.” The con looked over as Peter grabbed onto his wrist and pulled him over to the bed. “Just get in.”  


Surprise, quickly followed by relief flooded the con’s face, his rumpled look making him look younger than he was. No wonder El was so insistent, Peter mused as he crawled into bed next and flicked off the lights.  


I wonder when my life got so strange, Peter thought as he heard the breathing next to him even out.

Peter slowly came to, the feeling of eyes on him as he groggily rubbed sleep away from his eyes.  


He saw El smiling over at him with an unidentifiable look on her face.  


Puzzled, he was about to ask her what she was looking at when he realized that his left side felt numb.  


Twisting his head, he saw that during the night Neal had gravitated to him. He was curled up into a ball, one arm was flung over the FBI agent’s chest gripping firmly onto his shirt and the other hidden by the mop of dark curls that were buried in his side. Peter’s own arm had curled around the man instinctively and it was like this that El had found them when she had woken up.  


“I should get my camera.” El laughed quietly, a loving look on her face.  


Peter shifted uncomfortably. “Don’t you dare—“  


As if hearing their conversation, Neal shifted, his head turning slightly, giving the Burkes a view of the ex-con contentedly sucking on his thumb.  


El gave him a heartbreaking look as Peter frowned in concern, still in shock about seeing his suave C.I. suck his thumb. “Oh, poor Neal—that must have been some nightmare. You’re sure he isn’t getting sick again?” She reached over and laid a hand on 

Neal’s head before she finished speaking.  


The touch seemed to waken Neal and his eyes slowly opened.  


Brief confusion filled his face before he suddenly realized where he was. Thumb dropping from his mouth, he pushed away from Peter, mortification written all over his face as he scrambled from the bed and fled wordlessly, the Burkes voices calling after him.  


He ignored them and ran from the house running as fast as he could.


	3. Chapter 3

“You sounded weird over the phone—what’s up?” Mozzie looked at him quizzically later that night. Neal had been studiously ignoring all of Peter’s and El’s calls, just sending them a text that he was fine to keep them from coming over.

Neal paced in front of the couch, a glass of wine in his hand as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

“I told you—I’m fine.” He snapped, turning away quickly as his mask slipped and trepidation and shame flashed across his features. He raised a shaking hand and rubbed his eyes.

He felt a sudden tentative hand on his shoulder and he turned in surprise to see his friend’s concerned face watching him. “Hey, Neal, you can talk to me, no judgment between us, right?”

Neal hesitated, part of his mind screaming to say nothing while the rest of him longed to just let everything go—

“What’s wrong? Did the Suit do something?”

At the mention of Peter, Neal felt the sudden urge to feel protective arms wrapped around him—

Unable to stop himself, he clutched unto Mozzie, burying his head in the shorter man’s neck, feeling Mozzie’s surprise and shock but unable to let go.

“Hey, um, Neal, it’s okay—“ Mozzie tried unsure.

“What’s wrong with me?” Neal managed to ask plaintively as he felt tears gathering in his eyes.

“Nothing is wrong with you—“ Mozzie started indignantly.

“I was in their bed, like a damn child, Moz! I was sucking my thumb, snuggled up to Peter!” Neal felt his face redden at the memory, his words coming off more as a wail.

There was more shocked silence.

“Oh.” Mozzie didn’t know what to say to that. He gave Neal a few awkward pats on the shoulder before Neal managed to get a grip on himself and pulled away, his mask once more in place.

Before the awkward silence started to set in, Mozzie looked at Neal penetratingly. “Have you told them about your nightmares? I think this might have something to do with—“

“No!” Neal said firmly. “It’s nothing, they’d only worry.”

Mozzie raised a brow. “So? They like doing that, don’t they?”

“No. I’m fine. Just didn’t get enough sleep.” He said with as much sincerity as he could muster. That was a lie, last night he had slept the best he had in weeks, but no way was he ever going to admit that. His emotions just all felt—strong, was the only word for it, they were way too strong. He just wanted to be safe, he wanted Peter—No!

“I still think you should tell them.” Mozzie interjected into his friend’s tortured thoughts. “But if you’d rather be obstinate.” He plopped down on the couch and turned on the T.V.

Argument dying on his lips, Neal looked at Mozzie in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“Watching the latest commercials with all their subliminal messages.” His friend replied easily.

“You don’t have to stay, I’m fine, really.” Neal protested halfheartedly.

Mozzie ignored him and Neal covered the relief on his face by going and getting his friend a pillow and a blanket.

Getting ready for bed despite the early hour, Neal briefly toyed with the idea of simply staying up with Mozzie, that way he could be sure that he wouldn’t have any more nightmares. But no, he thought shaking his head as he went to his bed and slid beneath he covers tentatively, then he’d know something was wrong. And nothing was wrong, nothing.

I’m fine, Neal told himself as he laid back.

I’m fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always welcome ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is micro-chapter but it goes better by itself then lumped with the next one, so...heads up :)

Peter picked up his phone and then put it down, his mind only half on the game he had on T.V.

His wife glanced over from where she was trying to read a book unsuccessfully.

“Peter, I know how you feel, but maybe we should try not to call him every five minutes.” El suggested gently.

Peter ran a hand through his hair. “I know, you’re right. I just can’t believe he’s avoiding both of us, you’d think he’d at least answer you.”

“He was pretty embarrassed.” El commented putting her book down with a worried frown. “That poor baby.”

While he would never be caught calling his C.I. a ‘baby’ Peter couldn’t help but agree with her. Neal had seemed so vulnerable, so young. Something was going on with him, he just didn’t know what.

Peter checked his watch. “It’s still early, I’m going to go and check on him.”

El squeezed his hand as he went past her. “Okay, just don’t press him too hard.” She cautioned.

“I won’t. I just want to make sure he’s okay.” Peter promised as he grabbed his coat and keys and headed out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter filled with Neal and Peter fluff and Mozzie being Mozzie ready for your reading pleasure--or not :)  
> Comments, con-crit or otherwise, totally welcome and appreciated ;)

Dozing in front of the T.V. Mozzie was startled awake as he heard a gut wrenching scream. Jumping up, he hurried over to Neal’s bed, the man tangled up in his sheets, sweat on his brow. He was mumbling incoherently but Mozzie was sure he caught the name Peter several times, fear and pain twisting his face as a few tears made their way from his tightly closed eyes.

“Neal!” Mozzie shook his friend’s shoulder gently but firmly. “Neal wake up, it’s just a dream!”

Neal’s eyes briefly opened and Mozzie could tell that his friend was only partly awake, tears flooding his eyes as he finally locked onto Mozzie’s face and sobbed out brokenly. “He—he’s dead, Moz—it—it’s my fault! P—Peter…”

“What? No, Neal, the Sui—Peter is alive, he’s alive, Neal.” Mozzie tried to comfort his friend but Neal simply sobbed harder, on the verge of hyperventilating.

Alarmed, Mozzie quickly pulled out his phone and dialed Peter.

“Burke.”

“Suit, get over to June’s, Neal needs you.”

“What happened?” Peter asked quickly, his tone worried.

“Just hurry.” Mozzie ended the call and then tried to calm Neal down again but with no luck.

Just minutes after he had called the Suit, he heard the door to the apartment open and suddenly Peter was next to him, worry in his eyes as he frowned and sat down next to the shaking Neal.

He didn’t bother to ask what had happened, it had been a nightmare.

Reaching out he squeezed Neal’s shoulder reassuringly. “Hey, buddy, it’s okay, it was just a dream, you’re safe.” He wasn’t sure why he added in that last part but it seemed to do the trick, the con opened his eyes and looked at Peter in shock, tears still streaming down his face, the grief in his blue eyes so poignant that it made Peter’s heart seize. “P—Peter?” he managed to gasp out, his breathing evening out.

“Yeah, it’s me, buddy—“

Neal reached out with a shaking hand and traced Peter’s face like a child. Eyes filling with tears again, Neal launched himself at the agent who suddenly found himself with his arms full of sobbing Neal.

Cradling the man to his chest, Peter started to rock slowly, murmuring soothingly. Neal had both of his hands gripped tightly into Peter’s shirt, his head tucked against the older man’s chest as his shoulders shuddered.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Neal’s cries turned into sniffling, then hiccupping, then the ragged breathing of someone who has just cried themselves to sleep.

Peter shifted his back aching—the movement caused Neal to grip onto him tighter, a small moan of distress escaping his lips. Rubbing his back, Neal settled down again.

“You’re good at that.” Mozzie noted and Peter looked up startled, he had forgotten the little man was there.

“Yeah, well my back is going to hate me tomorrow. Uh, he doesn’t want to let go, so could you help me?”

“Sure. But know that I do this to help Neal and not the Federal Government.”

“Noted.” Peter said drily.

With Mozzie’s help, Peter was able to position himself so that he was leaning against the headboard of the bed, Neal still safely wrapped in his arms.

“When Neal was sick he acted kind of like he is now, but he isn’t sick, so do you have any idea of what might be trigging him?” Peter asked in a low tone, his gaze penetrating as he looked at the small man.

Mozzie squirmed uncomfortably, avoiding the FBI agent’s stare.

Peter looked down as Neal shifted in his hold, one of his hands letting go of Peter’s shirt so that he could suck his thumb.

Mozzie sighed. He couldn’t stand to see his friend like this. “Okay, fine, but you didn’t hear it from me. He’s been having nightmares for a few weeks now. Bad ones—I think they’re usually about you and Mrs. Suit. He usually calls me afterwards and falls back asleep while I talk to him or I stay over to keep him company. Not that he needs it, according to him.” Mozzie sniffed gesturing at the slumbering con. “This has been the worst one I’ve seen so far though.” Peter shifted again, his back still aching. Neal whimpered at the movement, both hands suddenly clutching at Peter as his face started to twist up.

“Shh, you’re okay buddy, I’m not going anywhere, shh.” Peter murmured. Neal relaxed at the sound of his voice, and after a few minutes resumed sucking on his thumb.

“Here.” Peter looked up at Mozzie who was holding two pillows.

“Thanks.” Peter said gratefully as once again Mozzie helped him. This time Peter moved so he was almost flat against the bed, the pillows propping his shoulder and head up at a comfortable angle a blanket draped over both of them.

As Neal grew more restless, a whimper escaping his lips, Peter remembered something that one of El’s friends had said when she had her baby. Something about how the sound of a heartbeat would quiet them right down. Shifting Neal more despite his protests, Peter moved him so that the con’s head was right over his heart, the con’s legs straddling him. Maintaining a firm hold of the kid, Peter murmured soothingly and Neal actually did relax again, resuming his thumb sucking as he tried to press his head deeper into Peter’s chest.

Rubbing his back, Peter looked over at where Mozzie was busy on his phone. Belatedly, he remembered El. He hadn’t really planned on being here this long.

“Mozzie, could you tell El that I’m—“

“She already knows, who do you think I’ve been texting. She agrees with me by the way.”

“About what?” Peter frowned.

“About Neal. We think that due to severe emotional strain, he is regressing mentally.” Mozzie said it so matter-of-factly that Peter was stunned.

“Given how he’s been acting, I would say two, but Elizabeth thinks three.”

“You can’t be serious.” Peter looked at him uncomprehendingly.

“There are several coping methods, but I think age play would be better for Neal—“

Peter’s jaw dropped.

“Not like that, this would be purely to give Neal a way to get the emotional release he needs.” Mozzie gave him a dirty look while Peter relaxed into the pillows again.

“So what? You’re going to treat him like a kid and make him use a bottle?” Peter asked him skeptically.

Mozzie looked smug. “No. Mrs. Suit has already agreed, and you have a head start anyway.” He glanced pointedly down at Neal who was snuggled against the FBI agent.

Peter wasn’t in a position to argue about that, literally. “There is no way he will agree to that.” He protested instead.

“Oh he’ll deny he needs it like crazy, but he’s Neal.” Mozzie said as he turned back to his phone. “Besides, you’re not going to do it forever, just until he get’s his head on straight. He needs this.” He added looking up at Peter.

Peter sighed and started to rub Neal’s back absently as the kid shifted to get more comfortable. He’d lost, he’d known he had the moment Mozzie mentioned El but still. Looking down at the sleeping Neal, Peter grudgingly admitted that the kid did need something, maybe they were right, and this would help him. He hoped it did.

Uncertainty and concern vying for a place in his mind, Peter’s eyes slowly closed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up--another micro chapter that refused to go along with the next chapter. But that's life, am I right?   
> :)

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Feeling safe and warm, Neal slowly started to come awake.

Frowning softly, Neal slowly blinked his eyes open.

His eyes snapped all the way open when he realized that he was lying on top of Peter, thumb in his mouth. Face burning as the events of last night replayed in his mind, Neal shifted to get free.

The arms tightened around him, a hand rubbing his back as Peter mumbled. “Shh, buddy, it’s okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Freezing, eyes inexplicably filling with tears at those simple words, Neal found himself lowering his head back onto Peter’s chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

After everything Peter had seen and put up with, he still wanted to be with him? Neal blinked rapidly, his thumb slipping into his mouth. Confused even as a warm feeling spilled throughout his chest, Neal slowly closed his eyes, the steady thump of Peter’s heartbeat lulling him back to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter up :)

Peter woke up next, too used to rising early to get ready for work.

Good thing it’s the weekend, Peter thought as he risked moving Neal off of him.

Besides a few mumbles, Neal stayed asleep curling up into a ball in the warm area Peter had just vacated.

Tucking the blanket around the con snugly, Peter ran a hand through Neal’s hair affectionately, a faint smile on his face as Neal leaned instinctively into the touch. Damn, Mozzie was right, when did I start treating Neal like a kid?

Stretching, his back giving several loud pops, Peter staggered into the bathroom.

After washing his hands, Peter exited and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket where it had been unreachable yesterday due to Neal.

Going into the living room, Peter called his wife.

“Hey, hon.” El said brightly.

“El, did you really agree with Mozzie about the whole—age play—thing?” Peter asked quietly, he didn’t want to wake up Neal, the kid looked like he needed the sleep.

“Of course.” El said briskly. “This is just what he needs, you don’t see many grownup men sucking their thumbs or crawling into their friends bed for comfort now do you?”

“No—but I mean really, you can’t expect Neal to go along with having a bottle or wearing kids clothes—“

“We don’t need to go that far,” He could almost see his wife rolling her eyes. “But if Neal wants it then we should. Look, we’ll ease him into it and let him decide how far he wants to take it. For now, we’ll just coddle him and give him the emotional support he needs.”

Peter rubbed his head. “You know I’m no good at that.”

“Mozzie says differently, but I didn’t tell you that.” Elizabeth laughed. “Okay, is he still sleeping?”

“Yeah, he really was spent.” Peter replied briefly wondering where the little man had got off to.

“Well once he’s up, you bring him over here, all right? And bring some of his clothes, I want him to stay over here. Oh, and don’t mention the whole age play thing yet, all right?”

“Fine with me.” Peter agreed readily. If El wanted to break the news, she was welcome to it. “But I still think that—“

“Peter?” Neal’s voice sounded scared and anxious.

“I’m here, Neal.” Peter called out. “He’s up, I gotta go, see you soon.”

“Okay, hon, take care of him.”

“I will.”

Peter put his phone back into his pocket and hurried over to Neal’s room where he saw the con man sitting up amid a pile of blankets, his hands fisted into the material.

On seeing Peter, the relief was evident as he let go of the blanket and instead flushed, looking away.

Peter moved over to the bed and sat down on it, smiling at Neal. “Hey, I said I wasn’t going anywhere, remember?”

Neal turned to him, his face filled with conflicting emotions. Why can’t I keep my damn emotions in check? He thought angrily to himself. Why do I keep doing this? Now they all think I’m crazy— “But why?”

Peter felt a wave of sadness that Neal even needed to ask that question. “Because you’re family, Neal. I’ll always want to help you, to be there for you.”

Neal blinked rapidly, holding Peter’s gaze for a second before dropping his eyes to the bedspread, picking off invisible lint. “I’m s’rry, P’ter.” He mumbled almost too softly for him to hear. Sorry you have to pretend to care for an enormous burden that drags you away from your wife because of a damn nightmare, he added inwardly as suddenly felt sickened by the thought.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, buddy.” Peter pulled Neal into a tight embrace, one hand cradling the back of his head.

Any composure Neal had shattered at the affectionate action and Neal found himself clinging tightly to the agent, arms wrapping around his neck as he buried his head into his shoulder.

They remained that way until Neal finally felt strong enough to let go, Peter squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.

“Well, El is cooking us up some breakfast, think you can get ready to go?”

“Peter, I don’t—“

“If you don’t want to go then you can be the one to tell El.”

Pouting, and yes a grown man was actually pouting, Neal got out of bed and headed to the bathroom wordlessly.

While he was gone, Peter quickly packed up a bag of Neal’s clothes, enough for several days at least, and then waited for Neal in the living room.

When the conman emerged from his room, looking as immaculate as ever almost as they were going to go off to work, he shot a glance at the bag Peter was holding mouth opening to protest.

“We want you to stay with us for a few days, Neal.” The way Peter said it sounded as if he wouldn’t take no for an answer, his jaw firm as he gave Neal a stern look as if daring him to argue.

Part of Neal wanted nothing more than to stay at the Burke house, but another part of him that was rapidly diminishing wanted to rear its stubborn head and dig its heels in. But before either side could win, Peter had grasped his elbow and was propelling him out of the room and down the stairs and into the car.

Tossing Neal’s bag into the back, Peter got into the driver’s seat and buckled in his seat belt as Neal slid into the passenger seat and then fiddled with the seat belt.

When Peter glanced over him, his C.I. had such a confused and lost look on his face that the agent instinctively reached over and buckled his seat belt for him.

Ignoring the surprise in Neal’s eyes, Peter pulled the car out and headed for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always welcome :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh this story! I just couldn't help myself--here's a chapter to sink your teeth in while I furiously type out the next chapter.  
> Enjoy ;)

A few minutes into their drive, Neal cleared his throat.

Peter glanced over at him questioningly.

Neal twisted his hands together and then pointed to the radio. “Can I?”

Seriously, Peter wasn’t sure how much more surprised he could get at this point. Neal never asked Peter to use the radio, if anything they both fought tooth and nail for control of it every ride they had ever taken. Remembering himself he gave Neal a smile. “Of course, buddy.”

Still unsure about the fact that his handler was calling him buddy but knowing that every time he heard it he felt warm inside, Neal turned the radio on to some light sounding pop music, definitely not his style.

The ride finished quickly after that and soon Peter had pulled up into their driveway, quickly getting out and pulling out Neal’s bag and heading to the door. Once he got there though, he suddenly realized that Neal was still sitting in the car a frozen look on his face.

Frowning, Peter set down Neal’s bag and headed back over to the car opening Neal’s door and reaching over to release his seat belt. “Come on, Neal, El is waiting.”

Neal couldn’t look at him, he remembered that Elizabeth had seen him sucking his thumb, and yes Peter had seen even more and had still wanted to stay with him, but what if—what if—she laughed? What if she hated him now and thought he was a freak?

Subconsciously he started to curl in on himself.

He looked on both of them like parents—he couldn’t stand it if she—if she rejected him…

Oh god, why did I let Peter bring me here?

“Hey, hey, hey. What’s this?” Peter asked gently squeezing Neal’s shoulder with one hand while the other tilted Neal’s chin so he had to look at him.

Neal blinked back sudden tears, not wanting to cry again—Elizabeth might see and then—

He was suddenly wrapped up in a hug.

“Neal, you’re safe here, all right? You’re safe.” Peter told him firmly as he ran a hand through the boy’s hair. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes, P’ter.” Neal mumbled into his shoulder, clutching onto the other man like he was his lifeline.

“Okay, then let’s go.” Peter gave Neal one last squeeze before pulling away and tugging Neal out of the car gently.

Keeping a grip on the younger man, not wanting him to flee, Peter led them back up the porch steps and picked up Neal’s bag as he opened the door and ushered Neal inside.

El came out of the kitchen, a warm smile on her face as she started towards Neal intent on giving him a hug. “Neal!”

Suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy, Neal found himself ducking behind Peter in an attempt to hide, one hand grabbing onto the hem of agent’s jacket tightly as he looked down at the ground.

Catching his wife’s puzzled gaze, Peter gave a micro shrug and then reached behind him to bring Neal next to him in a half hug that the con almost eagerly melted into.

“So what’s for breakfast, El?” Peter asked trying to take attention off of Neal so that the younger man could get his bearings.

“Well I thought banana pancakes.” El said, catching on as she turned and went back into the kitchen Peter almost dragging Neal with him as he followed her.

“Sounds good, one of Neal’s favorites, right Neal?” Peter asked releasing his friend who nodded quietly.

“Why don’t you help me, Neal? There are a lot of pancakes to make for you two hungry men.” El suggested kindly. Starting to feel more relaxed now that Elizabeth hadn’t spurned him, Neal gave her a tentative smile.

“All right.”

“Well, I’m going to grab a quick shower and change; I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Peter announced as he started to move out of the kitchen.

It took everything Neal had not to run after the agent and stop him from going anywhere. Instead he looked fixedly at the griddle that was heating up, trying not to feel abandoned. He’s just going upstairs, he’s just going upstairs, Neal repeated to himself. Stop being so stupid.

He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder and looked over at Elizabeth who was giving him an understanding look. “He’ll be back soon, sweetheart.”

Using the mask that had served him so well over the years, Neal gave her one of his signature smiles adding in a pinch of confusion like he had no idea what she was talking about. “Well if he doesn’t, more pancakes for me. What do you want me to help you with?” He asked smoothly.

Impressed by Neal’s control, despite the fractures she could see in his façade, she sensed any further prodding would only make the con close up more. Deciding to play along, she smiled at him and gestured to the kitchen table. “Can you chop up some bananas for me while I get the flour?”

“Of course.”

As they worked, El started up a conversation about a new art exhibit opening next month and before long Neal was relaxed. Finishing up making the batter, El suddenly blew some flour into Neal’s face grinning.

For a moment Neal looked stunned, and then he giggled.

El didn’t have time to be surprised about that though as he quickly tossed some flour on her.

“Oh it’s on.” She said grabbing a handful.

When Peter descended the stairs, clean and ready to eat, he came across two flour covered shapes sitting at the table, three heaping plates of pancakes set out along with syrup, whip cream, and butter.

“Do I even want to know?” Peter joked as they both turned smiling faces towards him.

“Nope.” Both of them replied in unison. Neal giggled.

Peter smiled and sat down.

They ate and talked idly about anything, Neal sneaking some of his pancakes down to Satchmo who had been in the yard.

The family atmosphere was relaxing and Peter and El could both see how Neal seemed to lose the tension he had been carrying on his shoulders. Maybe he just needed more time with us, Peter thought as Neal smiled at him, eyes twinkling.

When El finally cleared away the dishes, Neal volunteered to do the dishes.

“Oh, thank you, Neal, if only someone else here were so kind.” She said pointedly.

“Hey, I help!” Peter protested as he finished his coffee and stood up to deposit the dish in the sink.

“Mmm-hmm. Well, since Neal is doing the dishes, I am going to go and get this flour off.” She gave Peter a kiss on the cheek and then disappeared up the stairs.

Seeing that Neal was still occupied by the dishes, Peter decided to go and get some work done on his laptop in the living room.

Settling down on the couch, he propped the laptop on his knees and flipped open a file he had brought from work. Studying the screen he started to type.

There was a sudden crash from the kitchen.

Quickly setting his laptop to the side, he ran into the kitchen to see Neal kneeling on the floor, one of his hands bleeding as he tried to pick up the broken pieces of a plate.

“Neal, Neal stop! You’re cutting yourself!” Peter commanded reaching over and grabbing hold of the conman’s wrists.

“I’m s’rry, P’ter! I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry!” Tears were trailing down Neal’s face, a broken look on his face which a few moments ago had been laughing and smiling.

“It was an accident, Neal. It wasn’t your fault.” Peter said firmly, his heart breaking at seeing his C.I. looking so scared.

“I—I always b—break things—I—I’m no g—good.” Neal sniffled as he tried to pull away from Peter to run. “I always b—break th—things.”

Peter held on tightly. “No you don’t. It was just a plate, Neal, it’s fine, really.”

He pulled the now sobbing man to his feet and quickly looked over the gash on his hand. He frowned, it wasn’t too bad, but it would need to be cleaned and bandaged and he didn’t know if Neal would be able to stay still that long.

Cleaning Neal’s hand off in the sink, Peter grasped Neal’s good hand and led him up to the hall closet where they had an emergency kit. Removing the necessary items, Peter quickly bandaged up Neal’s hand.

“Okay, that will do for now.” Peter took in Neal’s still floury countenance, his eyes still red-rimmed and his mouth trembling. “Once you take a shower I’ll help you change the bandages, all right?”

Neal nodded dejectedly.

Peter sighed as he put away the kit and then turned to face Neal.

“It wasn’t your fault, Neal.”

Neal remained silent, his good hand drifting up towards his mouth before he let his arm drop abruptly, his face coloring.

Pretending not to notice, Peter took hold of his good hand and led him down the stairs like a child, he still didn’t know if Neal might try to run off. That was the last thing they needed with him in his current state of mind.

It just showed how badly Neal felt that he allowed himself to be led at all. Neal always seemed so independent, but when it came down to it, he really wanted someone else to take control.

Peter resisted sighing again. He had been hoping Neal would be able to snap out of whatever had by himself. Not that he wouldn’t do whatever he could for Neal, but still.

Pulling Neal over to the couch, Peter tugged him down so that he was sitting next to him.

Neal frowned, his chin quivering. “B—but the couch—“

“It’s just flour, Neal, the couch will be fine.” Peter assured him as he settled down with his laptop and handed the T.V. remote to Neal. “Here, watch some T.V., El will probably take awhile, then you can grab a shower.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor little Neal, he's really lucky he's got the Burkes on his side isn't he? And Mozzie, because everyone should have a paranoid best friend, they are literally the best ;)


End file.
